


Life is like...

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Both Platonic and Romantic, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Truth Serum, comics and show fusion canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: Matt Murdock learns to express his feelings to the people he cares about, all thanks to the power of chocolates filled with truth serum.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Samuel Chung & Matt Murdock
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75
Collections: Team Red Server Valentine's Day Pop





	Life is like...

**Author's Note:**

> For the Team Red Server Valentine's Day Pop!
> 
> Art is by the lovely [Upupanyway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/)

* * *

“Oh, nice! Chocolates!”

“Wait, don’t—!”

But it was too late. Foggy was already mid-chew before Matt’s voice reached him.

“Wha’?” Foggy swallowed, and his voice became less garbled. “What was that, Matty? Sorry, were you saving these?”

Matt shook his head.

“No, I.” There was a shift in the air currents as Foggy reached for another chocolate, so Matt snatched the heart-shaped box away. “But don’t eat any more! Jesus. There’s something off about these, Fogs.”

“They tasted fine to me...” Still, Foggy sounded troubled. “You don’t think they’re poisoned or something, do you?”

Matt bit his lip.

“I don’t think so, but... They smell wrong somehow. And Karen told me they were, uh, addressed to Daredevil. So...”

“So we might have a problem on our hands,” Foggy concluded, a little bit strained.

Matt’s hands tightened over the cardboard of the chocolate box, and it crunched slightly in his grip. He cleared his throat, steeled himself.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Foggy. I promise.”

“That’s probably out of your hands, buddy.”

Which was... True, but Matt didn’t want to think about that. He offered up a scowl in response.

“You know, I’ve always thought you look cute with that grumpy expression on your face.”

Silence reigned throughout Matt’s small office for approximately three and a half seconds.

“What?”

“Noth— I said I’ve always thought you look cute with that grumpy expression on your face. ... Ok, that was weird.”

Matt’s cheeks went hot, and he fidgeted with the box of chocolates. What the hell was in them? Some kind of, of love potion, maybe? Matt didn’t like to spend too much time thinking about magic — mostly because he hated it and wanted to pretend it didn’t exist — but it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that it had a hand in what was off about the chocolates.

“Are, uh. Are you feeling ok, Foggy?” he asked.

“A little bit fuzzy, I guess?” came the reply. “And also freaking out but that’s kind of my baseline since you spend so much time fighting organized crime and I always worry one day I’m gonna walk in and you won’t be there because you’ll be dead in a dumpster somew—”

There was a slap of skin on skin as Foggy clapped his hands over his mouth. Matt winced.

“I take it you, uh, didn’t intend to say that,” he chanced.

“Yeah, not so much,” came the muffled reply. “... Was there truth serum in that chocolate?”

“Uhh, I don’t—”

“Someone tried to roofie Daredevil with truth serum?!” Foggy’s hands scraped through his hair — still short, but growing again — scattering the light, fruity scent of his shampoo into the air. “Matt, I’ve been— I’ve been troofied!”

“Fogs you know that’s not a real w—”

“Does it matter if it’s a real word or not, Matthew! There’s only one reason somebody would try to troofie you — they’re going to try and reveal your secret identity! Which I know! I’m a ticking time bomb of truth! I need to— lock myself in a closet, or—”

As he spoke, Foggy’s heart raced faster and faster, thundering against his ribs. Matt let go of the box of chocolates to grab Foggy by the shoulders.

“Foggy!” He shook him gently. “Foggy, you need to calm down. Your heart’s about to burst, buddy.”

“But Matt, the troofies—”

“I know,” Matt promised. “I know. But I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe, Foggy. Do you trust me?”

It took half a second to realize what a precarious question that was to ask. Foggy would have to answer truthfully. Matt’s breath caught sharply in his throat.

“Yeah,” Foggy answered without a pause at all, “of course I do.”

No hesitation. As if it were an easy truth to tell. Matt had to clear his throat to get out a sound past the lump building in it. His eyes itched with tears, and he let go of Foggy and lifted his glasses to rub at them a little.

“Good.” Matt swallowed again, tried to speak more evenly. “That, uh. That’s good.”

“I should tell you more,” Foggy said, “if that’s the reaction I get.”

All Matt could manage was a bleak little laugh. He’d proven, time and again, how unworthy of Foggy’s trust he was. It would never stop feeling like a baffling miracle.

“You. You don’t have to do that,” he stammered. “Really.”

“I kinda do,” Foggy said. “Because I love you, you dork.”

Jesus. Like a hit to the solar plexus. It shouldn’t have been — it wasn’t like Foggy never said he loved Matt. He said it a lot. _Love you, buddy_. An arm around the shoulders. But somehow, this felt different. Heavier.

Matt shook his head.

“Why?”

The question was out before he could stop himself, and it earned him a sigh.

“You either have the worst self-esteem in the world or I should smack you for using my incapacitated state to fish for compliments,” Foggy said, but his voice was as warm as a bowl of chicken soup. “It’s everything, Matt. The way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you laugh, your competitive streak, that asshole smirk you get on your face when you know you’re about to win an argument. I love how much you care, about everyone around you — that you want the world to be a better place for people and that you’ll fight tooth and nail to try and make it that way. I love that seeing you do it makes me want to fight for a better world too. I love how brave you are, even when it’s stupid. I love you because even when we fought, even at a time that I thought our friendship was one big lie, you never took the cheap shots. I don’t think it even occurred to you. You’re a flake and you have trouble telling the truth and you’re stubborn as hell, and I hate that you put yourself in so much danger, and I hate when you make decisions that affect me without asking me. I hate that I want more from you than you can give. But you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. My life’s always better with you in it, buddy.”

That was already too much. Just— too much, so much more than Matt deserved, so much it filled up his chest, expanding like a balloon. But then. Then...

“You’re kinda the love of my life.”

There was a hot flush of embarrassment, but Foggy didn’t try to take the words back. There was no sour tinge of fear in the air to make the confession bittersweet. Just... Foggy. Ink, pastry, earthy soap — comforting and familiar.

Matt wanted to match that energy in kind. Had to. He opened his mouth.

“I. Foggy, I. I’m.”

The words weren’t coming. Matt could feel them, tumbling about in his brain and lodged in his throat. Trapped. Foggy was being truthful and earnest and didn’t even seem to mind that it was being stolen out of him, and yet Matt couldn’t muster up the ability to answer him. Some man without fear.

He wanted to tell Foggy how he was feeling, he reminded himself, sharply, as if that would dislodge the words. It didn’t, and Matt’s helpless frustration mounted. If only he had something to make it easier, to—

Oh.

But he did.

Of course he did.

Matt fumbled for the discarded box of chocolates, snatching one up and stuffing it in his mouth. He chewed, had to pause as the taste hit his tongue — rich, high-quality dark chocolate, with a strawberry filling and the truth serum’s subtle, heady tint of not-quite-right that reminded him of Elektra’s perfume.

“What— Matt, what the hell?”

The words flowed with ease. So much so that Matt found his heart twisting with a mixture of euphoria and terror.

“I wanted to tell you how I feel.”

“You just ingested an unknown substance to tell me how you feel?” Foggy demanded. “Matt, oh my god. We don’t even know when or if this will wear off!”

Which was true. So true. Especially with the chocolates being meant for Daredevil.

“Yeah, but it was a risk I had to take,” said Matt. 

“Or you could have just fumbled through talking about your feelings for once, Matthew!”

“But I can’t say it,” Matt explained. “Or I couldn’t. It’s, it’s hard for me. Probably for a lot of reasons — my dad’s death, Stick, St. Agnes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to say it. I do, I’d say it every day if I could, if I knew it would make you happy. Because to me, Foggy, to me...”

The stream of words faltered. There was nothing big enough to encompass all of what Foggy was to him. A friend, a confidante, a partner. An equal, but at the same time so lofty and far above that he was impossible to reach.

“You’re like the sky,” Matt blurted, and found that it summed up everything else.

“The sky?”

“So integral and significant that words can’t describe you. Like you’re the one constant, even when you change — you’re still you. Still there for me.”

Foggy’s heart had started racing again.

“Matt. Is this... Are you...? Is this a love confession?” he asked.

“Yes,” admitted Matt, and it was a rush to say it. “I love you. God, Fogs, I love you so much. In every way it’s possible to love someone. When I tell you you’re important, that’s what I mean, every time.”

“I... Wow. I’m. Fuck, Matt. I was not prepared for that.”

Matt hunched his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m probably coming on a little strong.”

“No, I mean. Yes, but mostly just by your standards,” Foggy said. “I just, uh. We don’t really talk about this. Like, ever. Even if by some miracle you felt it, I wasn’t expecting you to ever say it, you know? Which is fine. Like you said — your dad, Stick, the nuns, all that.”

“I want to say it. All the time, Foggy, every— every day,” Matt blurted, feeling his ears go hot but none of the choked-up feelings in his throat from before. “When you say something clever, or try to cheer me up, or— or hum to yourself. Anything. Every time, I just. I could kiss you.”

Foggy choked on his breath, coughed a couple of times.

“Uh. I’m. I mean, I’m not, uh, opposed. To kissing. You. Actually I’ve kind of wanted to since the day we met. Which I really wish I had not just said.”

Matt took a step closer, so they were toe to toe.

“I don’t,” he murmured, curving a hand against Foggy’s jaw to pull him into a kiss.

* * *

For ten minutes it was just the two of them in their own little world, interrupting their own kisses when they were compelled to blurt out the kinds of sappy, ridiculous confessions that never would have seen the light of day otherwise.

And then Matt heard a familiar cadence of footsteps.

“Sam’s coming,” he told Foggy.

“Oh my god, we’re a mess,” Foggy groaned. “We _cannot_ let your apprentice know we just did something as unprofessional as make out in our place of work. Come here, your tie—”

“It looks fine to me,” Matt said, grinning, as he let Foggy straighten them both up to his satisfaction.

“You are such a little shit, but I love when you do that,” admitted Foggy, where any other day he would’ve told Matt that he was the worst. “Oh god, it still hasn’t worn off. What if it never wears off, Matt?”

“I’m sure it’ll wear off,” Matt assured him. “And if it doesn’t, we’ll call Claire, or find someone magic to help.”

“Find someone magic, wow, that’s the least thought-out plan I’ve ever—”

There was a knock on the doorframe of Matt’s office.

“Is everything ok?” Sam asked.

“No,” Foggy groaned, at the same time Matt said yes.

“Uh... Teach, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” Matt told Sam, and then found himself being suddenly shaken.

Foggy’s hands were warm on Matt’s biceps even through the fabric of his sleeves. Matt accepted the shaking with dignity.

“The fact that you genuinely believe that’s the truth,” complained Foggy, “is _mind boggling._ ”

Matt tilted his head.

“But... I am,” he pointed out. “I’m safe, in the office with you. I’m not hurt. And I can finally, I finally said what I meant. What I’ve always meant.”

“Uh...” Sam cleared his throat. “Should I... Come back later?”

“No!”

It took a couple seconds for Matt to realize it had been him that had said it. Startled by the shout, Foggy had stopped shaking him. As he gathered his thoughts, Matt ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Sam, there’s things I’ve wanted to tell you too, that I... Well. I’m not always good at expressing myself. So. While I can, I want to... I’d like to say some things.”

There was a quiet, puzzled noise from his protégé.

“Seriously, Teach, what’s come over you?” asked Sam.

“I ate a chocolate full of truth serum. But that’s not the point.” Matt slipped out of Foggy’s grasp and settled his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “The point is... The point is that you, Samuel Chung, are what makes me believe in the good in this world. Doing what we do, it’s so easy to get lost, or to second-guess yourself, but you’re the one part of all of this that I’m one hundred percent sure about. Every day you amaze me with your talent and perseverance and selflessness. You struggle, you feel afraid, but in the end you always make the choice to help others, and that’s true heroism. I’m so blessed to even know you, let alone be your mentor. So thank you, for giving me that trust and that opportunity.”

With those words finally out in the open air, Matt let his hands fall back to his sides. Sam’s heart was racing, and his throat clicked wetly as he swallowed. Then with a thunk, his hand slammed down on Matt’s desk.

“Whoa!” There was a clatter as Foggy knocked the box of chocolates Sam had apparently been grabbing for across the desk, out of reach. “No. No, this is a ‘learn from your idiot mentor and do not ingest questionable substances for the sake of overcoming your emotional constipation’ moment, not a ‘follow in his footsteps’ moment.”

Sam’s response was a frustrated noise from the back of his throat that Matt knew well — because it was the exact same one he himself made when feelings were not translating properly into words. The two of them really were cut from the same cloth, Matt thought to himself with a fond sigh.

And then was startled when he didn’t feel the urge to say it out loud. Furrowing his brow and wetting his lips, Matt tried to count back to when he’d eaten the chocolate.

Twenty minutes? Thirty?

So, fast-acting, but also fast, and sudden, to fade. Both odd, for a drug eaten instead of injected, although Matt wasn’t about to complain. He’d said everything he wanted to. 

But the realization that Foggy’s had worn off even earlier and neither he or Matt had noticed the difference was... Well, probably par for the course with Foggy, but also a testament to how genuine and open he was. The thought made Matt’s heart squeeze under the onslaught of a wave of affection that felt too big for his chest to contain.

“I’m,” Sam began with some clear struggle, drawing Matt’s attention again. “I’m not like you say, though. I’m smart, I’m a quick learner, but... I’m not like you, that, that instinct to do good. I mean half the time I just want to impress you because— because the alternative is letting you down.”

True, Sam’s heartbeat said. True, true, true. And knowing that was devastating. Next to Matt, Foggy let out a quiet, wounded noise.

“Sam, no. Never.”

“Foggy’s right,” Matt agreed, fighting past his own reticence, past the terror of speaking his heart because Sam— Sam needed to hear this. “There are some metrics that you seem to understand your value so well by, and others... Others where you miss the mark completely. You’re so harsh on yourself, building up this idea of a hero, of a good man, in your head. You’ve had to make a lot of hard choices in your life. To protect yourself and your family. Maybe you think that I would call that selfish. But the thing is... Even if I never really know what it’s been like for you, I do know what it means to struggle. To make choices in a place where all of them are bad. Hell, I know what it’s like to have a perfectly good life and then selfishly fuck it up. You... You’re an amazing person. And in my heart, I consider you a part of my family. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me give up on you, not now. I never, I _never_ want to make you feel like my caring about you is contingent on anything.”

Not like Stick, not like that first disastrous relationship with Elektra in college. Not like the way he’d thought of his mother for years — that she must have seen something in him that drove her away. Sam was brilliant in a hundred different ways, but even if he weren’t, Matt—

The words were gone again, but Matt could feel the emotions tied to them pressing up against his lungs, filling the cavity of his chest. Pride, maybe. Love. An exhilarating terror, knowing that he was being relied on. For one selfish, presumptuous moment, Matt wondered if it was how his own father had felt.

Cautiously, Matt lifted a hand and settled it on Sam’s head, combing through his hair.

“I’ll do my best not to screw up,” he promised. “But if I do, I hope you’ll tell me.”

“You’re one to talk about communication,” Sam muttered, leaning into the touch.

“It’s ok for me to be a hypocrite,” said Matt, managing to keep his tone light despite a wobble or two. “It’ll build your character.”

Sam sniffed.

“That’s pretty bullshit, bossman,” he complained, voice wet and thick with tears, “you know that, right?”

“One of the perks of being the mentor,” Matt told him, ruffling his hair one last time.

He’d planned to back off afterwards, step away and return them both to their more stoic — or as Foggy would say, emotionally repressed — comfort zone. But then he thought about Dad, about how even though they’d had a physically affectionate father-son relationship, Matt still wished they’d hugged more. And then he wondered when the last time someone had hugged Sam was, and it ached.

Slowly, like before, he reached out again — this time wrapping his arms around Sam. As soon as he did, Sam slammed into his chest, squeezing back tightly and pressing his damp face to Matt’s collar.

“I’m still telling Twitter you suck,” he mumbled against the fabric.

Matt laughed, quietly.

“I’m sure your fifty thousand followers will be suitably outraged on your behalf.”

* * *

By the time Karen returned with pastries and coffee and a folder of papers from the county clerk’s office, everyone’s eyes were dry and emotions had been properly settled. Sam was working determinedly at his own desk, but Foggy kept returning to Matt’s, lingering. Matt didn’t mind. It was good to have him close.

“We should probably throw that away,” Foggy said, nudging the box of chocolates for emphasis. “Before you get any more clever ideas about dosing yourself with truth serum.”

Matt huffed out a sound of amusement.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I wish we’d been able to figure out who—” He picked up the box, fingers brushing along the bottom, where— “Huh.”

Matt shifted his grip, ran the pads of his fingers over the base of the box again, in case he’d misread. But no, there it was. In Braille, right there for him to find.

_With Love, Wade_

And then Matt recalled, suddenly, something Wade had said the week before.

_“I’m telling you, Magoo, you’ve gotta learn how to tell the people in your life how you feel. Even I know that one. And Valentine’s Day is coming up — no better time!”_

“Huh what?”

Matt sighed, felt a smile catching at the corners of his lips.

“Figured out who my secret admirer is.” He shook the box. “It wasn’t a supervillain at all.”

“Oh? So what was this all about, then?” asked Foggy.

Clearing his throat, Matt shrugged.

“Present from Deadpool, to, ah, help me express myself.”

The bright, brilliant sound of Foggy’s laughter filled the air.


End file.
